


My Mind is Slowly Slipping

by JamesAeza



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insanity, M/M, Restraints, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, its one am have some remus angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesAeza/pseuds/JamesAeza
Summary: I wrote some Remus angst. Read the tags, this could get a little triggery.Could this be... projection? Onto Remus? Because I can? No, I would never.I hope you enjoy.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 134





	My Mind is Slowly Slipping

One

Two

One

Two

One

Two

The silent rhythm stayed on repeat in his mind. It had to, filling the empty space so that the horrible things did not come and fill it for him. 

_ Just keep the beat and you’ll be okay.  _

He chewed at the tips of his fingers, wishing he had the mental space to find his razor. That was a different kind, though. A measured type of self-inflicted pain. And right now his mind was anything but organized. 

Throwing thoughts, memories, horrible ideas at him. If he closed his eyes, the images would be worse. Eyes. Blood. War. Rapes and murders that he’d give anything to unsee. He didn’t know why his hell brain had to fight with him all the time, why his mind couldn’t just  _ shut up _ like everyone else’s. 

He slammed his fist into his skull. This was the desperate kind of hurting himself. The type where he’d throw himself into a wall, or rip at his wrists with his nails, or try to stab himself in the thigh with anything sharp that was within reach. 

These were the moments when he knew no one could help him. And he was glad, of all things, that this was affecting him rather than someone else. He could take it. And he didn’t want anyone else subjected to his 24/7 personal hell. 

One

Two

One 

Two

As soon as the beat slipped, the thoughts would come back. The rhythm kept him sane, pushing some of the unwanted out. 

Some would get through, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

And then there was the truth. The one he didn’t want to face. 

He was afraid of himself. Of the thoughts he thought up, of the physical harm he could do to himself. 

And if he was afraid of himself, how was he supposed to expect others not to be afraid of him? 

They would be. And even if someone wanted to help, they couldn’t. He was beyond help.

As he balled his fists, digging his nails into his flesh, he heard someone at the door. 

But why? Why here? He would just ignore them. He didn’t need anyone to see him like this. 

Crazed. Animal.

Desperate.

As he felt his sharp fingernails pierce the skin of his palms, he could feel the sticky blood getting all over his hands. All over his clothes, too. As if it mattered. He’d change the next morning, when he was somewhat normal again, and he’d pretend nothing off had happened at all.

“Remus? Are you in there?”

He slammed his fist into the wall, wishing that whoever was there would go away. He didn’t have enough control to talk to them, or even tell who it was. 

“Are you all right?” 

He almost laughed at that. He was as far from “all right” as it was possible to be. 

“I’m going to come in.”

He tried to gather enough control over himself to say no, but he couldn’t. He tried slamming his head against the wall, but to no avail. 

The door was locked, but the intruder was persistent. He distinctly heard the lock move around and then click, the door swinging open. 

“Oh my God,” was Logan’s first response. Remus’s eyes were crazed, his hair was wild and his posture was not excellent. He kept scratching at his arms, needing to draw more blood.

“Remus, take a breath. Please.”

Remus could not take a breath. He wanted to try. All he could do right now was keep the beat. 

One 

Two

Scratching harder

One

Two

Suddenly, he couldn’t hurt himself anymore. That was bad. He would soon lose any grip he had left on reality.

Looking down, he hazily noted that Logan was holding his wrists tightly. He couldn’t move them. That almost triggered a panic with the loss of control, the need for pain. 

_ The beat, Remus, the beat. _

Of course. This could keep him somewhere close to sanity.

One

Two

One

Two

Suddenly, it was someone else holding his wrists. He didn’t know why he knew, their grip was just different than Logan’s. 

There was a gentle prick in his arm, and the world spun, then faded out, horrible thoughts and all.

* * *

“Thank you for showing up so fast, Janus. I came here to ask him a question and I found him like this.”

“Of course. He does get bad sometimes.” 

Janus was carefully disinfecting and bandaging the self-inflicted wounds. Remus had caused a surprising amount of damage for how little control he seemed to have over himself. 

They had changed Remus out of his blood-stained clothes and into a t-shirt and sweatpants, which was a strange look for him. He looked not quite like himself, a bit toned down, smaller, almost peacefully asleep. 

As Logan carefully placed him on the bed, he wondered how often Remus slipped into insanity. How often he did this to himself, pretending the next day that nothing was wrong. 

“What will we do when he wakes up?”

“Well, that stuff was straight from Remy. He’ll be out for a while. But I am a bit concerned about that.” Janus carefully began affixating four-point restraints to the bed, effectively holding Remus captive. 

“He’s not going to be happy about that.” 

“I don’t care. He is not hurting himself under my watch. Trust me, he gets difficult to reign in.”

“I can see that. He’s going to have a massive headache.”

“I gave him painkillers, but yes. He will still be quite sore.”

“Perhaps we should find Roman. They are brothers, after all.” Logan knew that whatever facade Roman might want to put on, he would always care a little too much about his eccentric twin. 

“Yes, I think you’re right. Would you like to go find him? He may find your presence a bit more… welcoming.”

Logan flinched a little, all too familiar with Roman’s less than ideal reactions to Janus showing up uninvited. He could get a bit cruel when he got worked up. 

“Sure.” he nodded, heading for the door and leaving Janus with the limp, unconscious body of dark creativity. 

* * *

Roman knew that Remus could get bad, but he didn’t know exactly how bad he would get. So when Logan came knocking on his door in the middle of the night and told him that Remus had had a bad time, he knew he needed to come right away.

Remus looked pale. It was clear that he had already been cleaned up as much as possible, bandages covering his wrists and hands, clean clothes. He was even bound to the bed with medical restraints. That just made him more nervous, as he was fairly sure that Logan and Janus, ever logical, wouldn’t have done something like that unless absolutely necessary.

He slowly stepped up to the bed, stroking his brothers’ hair out of his face. He knew he should have treated him better. He’d always known that, always felt a pang of guilt at his cruelty. But the cold hard fact remained that he had lashed out out of fear.

He was afraid of his own twin. 

He knew he was a horrible person. That no one should be afraid of their family. But Remus was just so… unfiltered. Intrusive. 

Scary.

Taking Remus’ limp hand in his own, he looked into his darker counterpart’s face. 

He looked so vulnerable, just lying there asleep. 

Roman gently squeezed his hand, wishing he could take away the pain. No one deserved to feel like this. Not his brother, not Logan, not even snake face. 

But he did.


End file.
